Love Hurts
by Advancer231
Summary: Its amazing, the things we endure and the punishment we can go through when with people close to us. It's too bad we're not invincible...


"Ne, Takanashi-kun? Are you alright?"

"I'm perfectly fine, senpai," he replied regardless. "I'm just cold."

No, in fact, he was not.

Souta's hands wouldn't stop shaking.. Wouldn't stop trembling. It's been days now and customers have complained about the constant rattling that now heralded his approach as the utensils continuously clattered on the tray he carried.

Even as he bent down to sweep up the remains of the shattered glass, Popura could see the trembling, but she didn't press the issue. All she did was give him another concerned glance before going back to work.

Souta sighed in relief, and sent a reassuring glance towards the corner he knew _she_ would be watching from, but nobody was there.

* * *

"Agh!"

"Nee-san, please be more careful!"

Nazuna was normally a patient person, and she was. But she had to admit that her nee-san's constant cutting of his own fingers was beginning to get old.

Then again, as she helped him bandage another cut on his finger, Nazuna began to feel the beginnings of suspicious growing in the back of her mind. Kazue was more annoyed than suspicious and her other sisters were dismissive, but for the first time since it began, Souta's apology only made her feel more concerned than annoyed or irritated.

Her troubled thoughts showed through her features, so Souta gave her a reassuring smile.

"I'm perfectly fine," he said to her as he prepared to resume cutting.

Later that day he was rushed to the hospital.

* * *

"We need to talk."

Satou looked up from the pan he was scrubbing to Popura, who was unusually serious. Not only that but Kyouko, Yachiyo and Yamada stood behind her, the latter looking uncharacteristically solemn.

Suffice to say that Satou had a decent idea of what they were about to discuss.

"Souma," he evenly said. "Do you know anything?"

At the other side of the kitchen, the bluenette sighed and abandoned the rag he was using the clean the counter.

"Not much," he admitted. "Takanashi-kun's sister made it clear that she didn't appreciate people snooping around his private life."

"Which one?"

"The scary one."

"So the lawyer, then."

Thinking about the encounter, Souma couldn't help but wince at the memory of the insanely-heavy law book slamming into the back of his skull. Between an opportunity to gather information and being beaten upside the head by information, Souma would take his chances on his own educated guesses.

As for what happened to Takanashi, well…

"It was probably just an accident."

* **THUD***

All eyes in the room turned to the distraught Popura, whose clenched fist grinded against the countertop she just slammed in front of Souma.

"Katanashi-kun's missing a finger," she growled "How—"

She was interrupted when she was somewhat-gently pulled back by Satou, who had the top of her head in a grip.

"People lose body parts in accidents all the time," he said.

"But… Takanashi-san? It's not like him," Yachiyo mused, looking downcast.

She must have noticed as well, Satou thought. Something as normal as that for the Wagnaria crew wouldn't immediately be singled-out as the source of their worries, but right from the start Satou knew that it would come to this eventually. That's why he avoided it at all cost. It's why Souma was terrified every time it happened.

He let go of Popura, whose eyes now glistened with tears, and lit another cigarette.

He took a long drag before glancing at the two coworkers outside the kitchen…

* * *

Souta would never admit it, but the threat of twofold retaliation from Kozue-neesan if he ever used his self-defense techniques on a girl wasn't the only reason he refused to defend himself from Inami-san.

Maybe it was a side-effect of working with her 'unique' condition for so long. Whatever the reason was, he couldn't say anything other than the persistent 'I don't want to hurt her' repeating over and over again in his head.

Of course, he had hurt her. Several times. Maybe not physically, but even he wasn't so callous to not notice the emotional pain that Inami-san goes through on a worryingly regular basis.

Why didn't he do or say anything, if that were the case?

That… Is a very good question.

'I'm terrible, aren't I?' Souta thought to himself as he carried the stack of plates.

Once upon a time, he asked himself a question after hearing that Inami-san had found a boy she could speak to and that he wasn't hurt by her.

Now, Souta would laugh and rub the sore spot on his cheek that never seemed to stop aching. He'd listen to the clattering of the plates as he tried to carry then even though they weren't heavy. He'd look at the stump of what was his index finger and remember the involuntary twitch and his trembling hands the day he lost it while preparing dinner.

At the thought of all these things, all Souta could do was laugh.

"I guess for her, I really am a maso—"

"KYAAAAA!"

'...oh, the counter needs cleani—'

* * *

 ***CRASH***

Plates smashed and fragments scattered about as Takanashi was yet again knocked down.

"A-Ah! I'm sorry!" Mahiru exclaimed as she bent down to pick up the broken plates.

How many times now had this situation played-out? Surely Takanashi would better remember than her. It was more memorable for him anyway.

Still, Takanashi, even if he didn't enjoy it, was there. He complained, yes, but he was there. He didn't run away or call the cops or even outright faint whenever she was so much as in the same room as him. That meant something to her, it really did.

If only Mahiru knew a better way to express it.

"...I'm a terrible person, aren't I, Takanash—"

She turned to face him, but he hadn't gotten up.

"Takanashi-san?"

His glasses lay away from him, cracked.

"H-Hey, you can get up now…"

Takanashi didn't move.

"...Takanashi?"

...somebody spilled ketchup on the corner of the countertop.


End file.
